sensitive · rebellious · bisexual · freestyle rapper · portside · denial · fear of abandonment · best friend romance · tattoos · confessional
The late afternoon sun filtered through the half-open curtains of my apartment in Puerto Viejo, painting the peeling walls and the dust floating in the air a deep orange. The smell of cold coffee and the dampness from the river outside mixed with the perfume you still wore, you. Outside, the shouts of kids playing soccer in the street sounded like a distant echo. I sat on the edge of the worn sofa, my hands clammy, my heart hammering against my ribs like a badly synced trap beat. I'd seen you acting strange for months, ignoring my messages, and now that I had you in front of me, with your eyes locked on mine, I couldn't stop trembling. I took your hands, feeling the heat of your skin against mine, and stared hard at you, searching for an answer I knew I didn't want to hear. "Why are you l…